


The Gifted

by morrezela



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Biting, Imprisonment, M/M, Marking, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is one of the ‘gifted.’ Most of the world doesn’t know that his kind exists because the government hunts them down and takes them to a training facility. He’s treated well, but even a gilded cage is still a cage. Just ask the feral murderer that lives at the edge of the compound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gifted

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This isn’t real. The people mentioned belong to themselves. I am receiving no remuneration from this.
> 
> Warnings: Mature themes, biting, marking, references to mistreatment, feral behavior, death, imprisonment.
> 
> A/N: This fic was originally started years ago in response to a kink meme prompt - the link to which I have long since lost. It kept getting longer and longer with less and less kink.
> 
> It was also #12 on my WIP Meme from way back when if anybody was interested.
> 
> All mistakes you find are my own.

  
Gifted, Jensen thinks, is such a horrible term to use for what they are. He doesn’t know what they should be called, but ending up in an institution because something caused something else to go haywire in your body? That doesn’t fall under his definition of a ‘gift.’  
  
In fact, he’d call it a curse, but curses have remedies. According to religion, myths, legends and the local psychiatrists, curses are breakable. His powers aren’t ever going to go away which means that he is stuck in the program forever. But hey, at least the food is free even if his person isn’t.  
  
Oh, Jensen understands that eventually they’ll be let out of the actual facility. They’re training them for fuck’s sake. If they just wanted to squirrel them away from society, they’d be doped to the gills and surrounded by flowers and cuddly stuffed animals. It doesn’t take genius to figure out that all the gifted freaks are useless unless you take them out of the cage to use on non-gifted normals or the gifted freaks of your enemy.  
  
He doesn’t find that to be a particularly comforting revelation.  
  
Of course, to make things worse, Jensen’s gene pool just had to luck out on all sides because aside from being exceptionally handsome, not pretty damn it, his powers are all special. They aren’t a typical pattern of ‘mutation’ or whatever the doctors are calling it these days.  
  
Jensen would like to know why he has to be the special one in a group of freaks, but he’s not sure who to ask. For all the weird ass powers that he’s surrounded by, none of the guys have a pipeline to God. Apparently prophets of the Lord get divine help on staying out of places like the one he lives at.  
  
“Come on, Foureyes. Give us one of those special touches, huh? I bet you can make it real good. Fucking cock sucking lips of yours and pretty eyes, made for real men to fuck, huh?”  
  
Jensen really hates a lot of his fellow ‘trainees.’ Their ringleader got it into his head that Jensen and his awesome touching power mean that Jensen is some sort of erotic masseuse or geisha girl. Yes, girl. Fuckers need to learn that a couple of feminine attributes do not make you a girl.  
  
“Go away,” Jensen says as he gives Blake, yes, seriously Blake it’s like he’s living in a soap opera, a shove. He hopes that this is the time that his powers decide that they’re going to kick in and work through clothing, but he knows that his hope is in vain.  
  
Even if they did work, his persuasion only works on an individual that deep down wants to be persuaded. It works wonders for injuries because almost everybody wants their body to miraculously heal itself. The part where it screws with a person’s head? That’s kind of sketchy. He’s been told that his powers should eventually grow into that, but that doesn’t help him out of his current situation.  
  
“Aww, should’ve known that Jenny-Jen would like it rough,” Blake sneers as he stumbles back from the shove, invading Jensen’s personal space even farther.  
  
Swallowing back the bile rising in his stomach, Jensen forces his hands to cup Blake’s face and orders him, “Go. Away.”  
  
That doesn’t turn out so well.  
  
“You trying to fuck with my head? Little piece of ass like you?” Blake yells in Jensen’s face as he grabs hold of Jensen’s wrists and yanks his hands away.  
  
The rest of the group is shouting now. They’re making cat calls and urging Blake to force Jensen to the ground and take his ass.  
  
And, really, Jensen tried being nice, but he isn’t little. He’s been through fight training, and he excelled at it. Jensen Ackles has been at the top of his class for every subject he’s taken since he started kindergarten, and beating people up iss way easier than physics.  
  
He’s surrounded by people that wish him harm, so he doesn’t even try to make it a fair fight. He knees Blake in the groin as hard as he can. His assailant’s face turns white, and he falls to the ground. Blake is out for the count, and his sex life is going to be out longer.  
  
Blake’s cronies don’t take their leader’s decisive failure that well. Jensen fights them off as long as he can. Biting and scratching mixed in with more traditional kicks and punches keep him safe for a while, but he doesn’t really have a prayer. He might be one of the top students, but he isn’t Chuck Norris in a ninja film.  
  
The fortunate thing is that by the time they subdue him, none of them want to risk their precious dicks getting near Jensen. The unfortunate thing is that they decide that they can’t have Jensen running to The Warden, otherwise known as General Maxwell: Training Facilitator, telling him what happened.  
  
Rape is not kosher in The Warden’s play book. He might be the bastard that treats them like willing soldiers instead of unwilling prisoners, but he doesn’t stand for any funny business like that. Murder isn’t looked kindly upon either, but Jensen’s body isn’t going to be providing any forensic evidence because they’ve got him trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, and they’re heading towards Jared’s territory.  
  
Everybody knows that you don’t go into Jared’s area unless you’re suicidal. Even then, most will encourage you to find a better way to go.  
  
Jared isn’t a trainee so much as he’s the creepiest security device known to man. He’s the result of a really fucked up ‘gift’ that left him territorial and vicious. He responds to only three of the trainers and none of his compatriots. Those trainers never go into Jared’s territory. When they need him, they somehow bait him to the edge of it and talk him into coming with them.  
  
Jensen’s only seen Jared a few times, and he’s always been fascinated by how well groomed the feral man is. He looks like just another guy, but he isn’t.  
  
There aren’t many guards around the compound because Jared takes care of the threats single handedly. His powers are classified, but rumor has it that it’s some sort of animalistic thing that fried his brain. Some of the older ‘recruits’ swear that the trainers used to be dumfounded by it. Apparently Jared was known as a sweetheart in his hometown – the proverbial gentle giant.  
  
Most of those trainers are dead now. Some say that they pushed Jared too hard and his powers flew out of control. Others say it’s just the result of a mental breakdown from being taken away from his family. Still others swear that they experimented on Jared with drugs.  
  
Jensen doesn’t much care which theory is true because he’s about to be thrown into Jared’s territory, and the one thing that is for certain is you don’t do that and live. He can’t even beg for mercy because they’ve got him gagged so that he doesn’t call for help.  
  
When they do throw him, they swing him back and forth for a while, two men holding onto his feet, two onto his head and shoulders. They want to build momentum so that he goes as far in as possible. The few seconds that he flies through the air when they do let go, Jensen swears that he sees his life flash before his eyes. It’s as good of a cliché as any, and he is about to die. It’s strangely nice to have something normal as he faces the end of his existence.  
  
But Jensen isn’t about to give up the fight just because he is about to die. He has more personal integrity than that. He manages to roll a bit to soften the impact of his landing, but he still almost whites out, air rushing from his lungs and body lighting up with pain. He forces himself to stay awake because with the noise that his assailants make leaving the area, there is no way that Jared doesn’t know that he’s got an intruder.  
  
Clamping his teeth down around the gag, Jensen begins to roll towards the edge of Jared’s territory. It’s slow going, but he’s got some mild hope. The men that threw him had abnormal strength in their muscles, but the human body isn’t aerodynamic when it’s thrown sideways. The amount of distance that he’s inside the perimeter isn’t that great.  
  
He’s about halfway to the edge when two large hands grab him.  
  
Jensen screams as hard as he can through his gag. He isn’t afraid. He is absolutely terrified. He does not want to be killed by a man who has a superhuman body and the mind of an animal. Jared hoists his struggling form as if he weighs nothing, and tosses his bound body over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.  
  
Jensen takes a moment to focus on not pissing himself. He’ll do that when he dies anyway, so there’s no need to experience the embarrassment of it when he’s still alive. He’s aware of Jared’s scarily fast movements as the grass blurs by. They’ve disappeared into the trees. Jared doesn’t kill out in the open unless he has no other option. He doesn’t like the audience. The staff psychologists debate on whether it’s an animal instinct similar to not wanting to share his food or a human one of not wanting to be caught.  
  
They move quickly through the forest, and Jensen can practically feel his life draining from him even though Jared hasn’t done anything violent yet. The fence that runs around the entire facility has to be coming up soon, and at that point, they’ll be as far away from the others as they possibly can be. Jared probably isn’t going to wait very long to start in on his latest victim once he reaches that point.  
  
The ground keeps rushing by even when Jared starts to hit uneven terrain, and Jensen begins to feel sick with all the blood rushing to his head and the unnatural view and the absolute terror all pounding in his brain. He tries to stop it, but he can’t. He throws up, vomit burning on its way up into his mouth, soaking into his gag. He tries to focus on the bright side of not pissing himself, but he was never an optimist to begin with, and he’s sure this situation calls for mourning and dire realism.  
  
Jared pauses and sniffs and drops Jensen to the ground.  
  
The impact jars his already bruised body, but Jensen manages to keep from moaning. Making noise requires air, and he can smell the puke in his own mouth along with tasting it. He doesn’t want to use those senses any more than is necessary.  
  
Jared glowers down at him, and Jensen forces himself to meet Jared’s eyes. It isn’t a smart move if Jared’s totally gone into his feral mindset. An animal will see it as a sign of aggression.  
  
Huge hands come towards Jensen, and he flinches away only to feel his gag first pull tighter and then just disappear. The used cloth makes a wet ‘thwap’ as it hits a nearby tree that foolishly chose to be in the way of Jared’s pitch.  
  
Jensen rolls to his side to spit and spew and do whatever he can to get the taste out of his mouth.  
  
The other man lets him do it for a while before scooping him back up, this time carrying him like a bride.  
  
It occurs to Jensen that he could turn his head and bite down, but he doesn’t. He isn’t going to point out his small advantage until he’s certain that there isn’t going to be a better opportunity to use it. There’s the off chance that Jensen might be able to persuade Jared if he can touch his skin. Sure his hands are bound, but the trainers all say that any skin contact should work. His is hands are supposedly just his crutches, and he did give Mitch a craving for butter brickle ice cream the other day by just giving him a shoulder bump.  
  
Suggesting butter brickle over cookie dough isn’t exactly on the same level as convincing a known killer that he doesn’t want to enact his punishment for your trespassing, but Jensen’s going to go with the foolish hope thing. He wants his last moments on Earth to have some sort of happiness to them.  
  
He clears his throat. It’s a nervous habit. Jared growls threateningly at him, and his large hands clamp down tighter on Jensen’s body.  
  
No talking then. Jensen can bide his time. He’s good at waiting. Before he was taken, oh pardon him, before he was ‘brutally murdered’ by an unscrupulous agent with drug ties while being a struggling actor in Hollywood, he used to have to share one bathroom with four other people. Two of whom were women and one of whom was an older brother who cared way too much what the girls at school thought of his hair.  
  
Jensen spent many a Monday morning standing in the hallway, sipping coffee with his equally beleaguered father. They’d exchange sleep crusted looks of amusement and annoyance as the rest of the family fought for preening time.  
  
His parents hadn’t planned for three children. Ironically the only one who had been planned for was Jensen. They hadn’t had the money to buy a house with a second bathroom, but that was a small inconvenience.  
  
Idly, he wonders if his father letting him drink coffee at fifteen was what had triggered his powers. He supposes not. Kids all over down bottles of Mountain Dew like it is going out of style, and that shit has caffeine and sugar and looks like anti-freeze.  
  
Jared’s pace slows down, and Jensen can’t resist the urge to twist his head to search for what has slowed their movement. As far as he can tell, there isn’t anything except brush, but Jared’s stooping and pushing through the thicket instead of stopping or going around it. The branches and twigs scrape at Jensen’s face. He can feel welts start to form, and he can see little drops of red seeping out of new scrapes on Jared’s exposed forearms.  
  
Bleeding doesn’t appear to phase the giant man because he keeps moving, his momentum not altering. A flash of silver stands out in the bushes. It is twisted and bent, and Jensen realizes that they aren’t just next to the perimeter of the facility anymore. They’re going through it. Somehow Jared has made a hole in the fencing, and the guards haven’t come to fix it.  
  
It makes sense in an abstract way. Animals don’t define their territory by property lines and fences. Given that Jared is so dominant and protective of his, it probably had driven him crazy not being able to patrol all of his area. The administration has to know that Jared’s done this to their enclosure. There are sensors on the fence. Jensen knows this from the time that one of the female inmates had tried to escape.  
  
The females are kept in another section of the compound and are only allowed to visit their male counterparts once a month. Blake calls it the condom call because everybody is given their choice of birth control and then they are left together for mostly unsupervised visitations.  
  
Jensen’s got a stockpile of lube and condoms stored in his bunk. He’s still holding steadfastly to his principles. He doesn’t have meaningless sex with anybody, and he hasn’t spent enough time with any of the women to form an attachment worthy of taking that step. Blake’s group has effectively kept him from forming that sort of attachment with any of his male friends, so he’s just as out of luck there.  
  
That doesn’t keep him from taking his allotment every month. The condoms and lube can be traded to the hornier of the inmates. Those that have boyfriends or are just plain out for a good time without the worries of ripping, STDs or anything funky that might arise from two freaks swapping sperm are more than willing to trade their books, desserts or spare clothing for a few minutes of pleasure.  
  
In any case, one night one of the female prisoners tried to escape. Her plan was fairly good. She headed towards the men’s compound instead of the closer fences of the women’s, but she only made it halfway up an outlying fence before she was surrounded by guards. Nobody knew she was even missing until she hit the fence, but she was subdued within a minute of touching it.  
  
Jensen has to assume that the trainers know that there is a hole in their defenses. They probably just don’t care. Jared’s an intelligent animal to them. He isn’t going to leave his territory, and it isn’t like he’s going to let anyone in or out alive. The accountants in the office sector probably have Jared built in as a cost savings measure.  
  
Jared breaks free of the thicket and keeps moving. He trudges through a stream and up a hillside and finally places Jensen on the surface of a partially exposed boulder. Jensen can see dark spots on the stone that can’t be anything but dried blood that has seeped into the cracks.  
  
Rolling his head to the side a bit, Jensen manages to stare up at his abductor. He has to blink his eyes and squints a couple of times to focus in on anything more than just the dark hair of Jared’s hair and beard. The doctors have his eye surgery planned to correct his vision, but until then he’s stuck being his old myopic self, and Blake’s cronies weren’t so kind as to leave his glasses intact. Jared is staring down at him with almost a blank look on his face. Jensen doesn’t have much time to ponder the expression before it goes away, replaced with one of annoyance and disgust.  
  
New fountains of fear well up inside Jensen when Jared’s throat rumbles in an inhuman way. Then he leans in and almost viciously yanks at Jensen’s remaining bindings. He throws the ropes away in much the same manner as he did the gag, like they’ve personally offended him. Jensen would very much like to take the opportunity to rub feeling back into his limbs, but he doesn’t dare take his eyes off of the man in front of him even if Jared is busy staring at the place that Jensen’s bindings have landed.  
  
Instead he forces his aching body to stand as smoothly as possible. His knees shake as he rises, but he keeps his eyes trained on Jared’s. It’s disturbing because they don’t give anything away. It isn’t that they’re inhuman or cold like Blake’s are. They’re just unreadable. Jensen is an actor and a hairs breadth away from being psychic. He isn’t used to looking in a person’s eyes and not knowing what is going on in there.  
  
Jared growls at him menacingly. Jensen freezes but doesn’t take action. Jared’s forehead wrinkles in human confusion for a moment before he growls harder, his amazingly white teeth flashing in the sun.  
  
Jensen’s heart is slamming against his ribs in terror, but the illogical part of his mind points out that whatever human traits Jared has lost, his concern for dental hygiene isn’t one of them. Jensen’s pretty sure his own teeth aren’t that pristine. As if reading his mind, Jared snaps those perfect teeth together, his growl turning into a snarl as the sound vibrates against the bone.  
  
Options of what to do fly in and out of Jensen’s mind as he stands there. Running would be bad. You don’t run from a wild animal that is faster than you. Taking a swing at Jared would end just as poorly. Maybe if Jensen hadn’t just been smacked around by a group of super powered assholes he might have a chance of pitting his trained skill against Jared’s brute strength, but he doubts it. Jared has killed trainers and guards. Those are the people that trained Jensen, and the student has not overcome the master.  
  
The only option he has left is to get his hands on Jared’s skin, summon up some words and try to summon up some words of persuasion to say to his son-to-be killer. The way that Jared keeps flicking his eyes down to Jensen’s throat and back suggests that maybe Jared is going to go straight for the jugular. No vocal chords and possibly no air supply are going to be hard obstacles to overcome if Jensen wants to talk Jared into letting him live.  
  
Jensen is still trying to figure out the best way to get his hands on Jared’s skin when the other man finally snaps. He lunges forward with a growl, grabbing Jensen’s shoulders and spinning him around.  
  
Panic overrides cognitive thought, and Jensen slams his head back into what he hopes is Jared’s jaw. The lack of pain coming in from his skull lets him know that he didn’t connect with bone, but the choked wheeze that Jared lets loose informs him that he hit the giant’s windpipe instead. It’s a one in a million blind shot, and it’s quite possibly the best luck that Jensen’s ever had. Considering that the day has also held the worst of his luck, and that includes being fucking abducted from the real world, Jensen’s worried that he might’ve pissed off a leprechaun.  
  
Jensen’s booted feet slip against the stone, the moss covering it tearing as he tries to dig in for traction to get away. He lands with a thud, scraping his palms on the porous surface when he throws them out to break his fall. Scrambling to his feet, he makes it two steps before he whirls around and throws a punch at Jared.  
  
There isn’t any way that he’s outrunning the guy, and he’s not going down without fighting. Jared catches his fist in one of his overly large hands. The bastard actually laughs at Jensen, as he uses his grip to spin Jensen around.  
  
“Stop,” Jensen orders weakly. It isn’t the best compulsion in the world, but he figures it’s a simple enough command, and he really doesn’t care if Jared’s animal brain translates the order into ‘stop breathing.’  
  
Jared chuckles again, his voice low and rumbling, and he lets go of Jensen’s hand only to wrap both arms around Jensen’s middle. The hold pins Jensen’s arms to his sides and keeps his hands from being able to reach anything. He struggles against the grip, but Jared’s arms are stronger than the ropes that had held him earlier.  
  
“I don’t want to die. Please,” Jensen whispers. He’s sure that Jared’s heard the plea before, but he doesn’t have anything left to do but beg.  
  
Jared’s responding hum sounds almost like an inquiry.  
  
“I didn’t come into your territory on purpose. I swear I wouldn’t even dream of it,” Jensen tries to reason.  
  
Jared scrapes his teeth along the side of Jensen’s neck in lieu of another murmur. His canines are just a hair sharper than the rest of them, and Jensen can vividly imagine the way that those perfectly maintained bones can gnaw through something as soft as human flesh.  
  
Motivated by the gory thought, Jensen wriggles again, stomping down hard with the heel of his left boot, hoping to catch Jared’s foot. He does. Only the dull thunk that it makes lets Jensen know that Jared’s wearing his field issue steel toed boots instead of the lighter ones issued for casual wear.  
  
Jared response is to kick at Jensen’s foot, forcing his stance wide. If not for the arms around him, the movement would have caused Jensen to fall forward. As it is, his balance is off, and he’s lost a good amount of his body leverage.  
  
He’s trying to figure out a way to get some of that back when Jared bites down on at the very base of his neck, settling in right around the knob of spine that rises above Jensen’s shoulders. It isn’t a warning nip or a lover’s bite. It’s a full out chomp. It hurts. What nerve endings aren’t lighting up in pain are reporting in trickles of wetness that is either Jensen’s own blood or Jared’s saliva starting to trickle down Jensen’s back.  
  
Jensen whimpers a little but forces himself to stay still. He can’t afford to have gaping wound on the back of his neck. Jared holds him there for what seems like an eternity before he lets go and starts to lick at the injury that he created. It’s gross, and Jensen really hopes that Jared isn’t the type to play with his food before he eats it.  
  
Nobody ever said anything about Jared being a cannibal. Jensen wants to wail that to the skies, but he doesn’t.  
  
Jared’s tongue quits moving, and he sniffs the area, chuffing hot breath up into Jensen’s hair and moving around to nip gently at the lobe of his ear. His hips roll against Jensen’s backside in a slow humping motion, but there’s no erection. The only hardness stems from the bunched up denim of both of their jeans.  
  
A pleased rumble reverberates into Jensen’s back where it is pressed against Jared’s chest as Jared begins to alternately lick, suck and nip at the ear again and again.  
  
“Hungry,” Jared whispers against the now sensitive part.  
  
“No,” Jensen’s aware that his response is ten kinds of terrified. He doesn’t want Jared to be hungry. He doesn’t want Jared to snack on his ear or any other part of him.  
  
Jared chuckles. “No, are you hungry?”  
  
Jensen freezes because an entire sentence is not what he expected to hear.  
  
“Terrified, like a deer,” Jared laughs again.  
  
“Got a reason to be,” Jensen shoots back before his mouth has a chance to consult with his brain.  
  
Jared hums and removes his arms. Jensen falls forward, but before he can steady himself, Jared’s spinning him around again and tossing him over his shoulder. Jensen hits at Jared’s back with his fists, pounding on the kidneys as he tries to kick at Jared’s front.  
  
“Very plucky,” Jared comments as he actually reaches over and swats Jensen’s behind.  
  
“Let me go.” Jensen begs.  
  
“In time.”  
  
In mid swing, Jensen stops. “What?”  
  
“I said, ‘in time.’ The trainers ruin your hearing with explosives training?”  
  
“You don’t let people go.” Jensen points out.  
  
Jared growls at that.  
  
“You kill them.”  
  
Jared growls again, but it has the sound of agreement and maybe even a touch of pride to it.  
  
“You’re not going to let me go to anything but my own death. You’ll drag my carcass back to the edge of your domain and leave it for the guards to hide and scurry away with.”  
  
“They were interlopers,” Jared snarls.  
  
“And I’m?”  
  
“You’re not.”  
  
Jensen hasn’t the foggiest idea what to do with that.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jared binds Jensen’s hands and feet whenever he sleeps, but he’s free to follow Jared around the rest of the time. Jared’s cave home is pretty damn comfy. It’s got a supersized cot and plenty of blankets and pillows. There are some books in the corner and a highly organized stockpile of food and other supplies. There are, thankfully no hanks of human hair or necklaces of teeth or any other souvenirs from the people that he’s ended.  
  
The giant man doesn’t speak often. Most of the time his eyes glaze over, and he just glares at Jensen whenever he moves. His communication is primarily made up of rudimentary grunting and snarls, but he insists on Jensen bathing in a nearby pool daily and provides him with a spare toothbrush. It’s a blue one which means that it’s the new supply that they’re supposed to break into next week. All their toiletries are color coded for ease of telling the expiration date. Even Jensen’s stockpile of condoms and lube are coded that way.  
  
Jared lets the bite on Jensen’s neck get infected. It hurts like hell for a few hours before Jared pours the nastiest feeling crap over it. It’s antiseptic, and Jensen hates the smell of the stuff. He wishes that he could use his powers on himself. It isn’t fair that he can make some random guy’s body heal itself from a gunshot wound, but he can’t convince his to speed up the residual bruising or the bite.  
  
“Fucking JACKASS!” Jensen shouts at Jared before he can reign in his mouth. He doesn’t want to upset Jared, but that shit hurts. There was no way that a human bite wasn’t going to get infected given the amount of time that Jared let it sit, and Jensen has the feeling that Jared knew that, cognitive problems or no.  
  
Jared ignores Jensen’s outburst and spreads ointment on the still stinging wound, massaging it with his fingertips to work the medication in before slapping a bandage on it.  
  
“Hands,” he commands once he’s done securing the tape.  
  
“It’s the middle of the day.” Jensen complains.  
  
“Hands.”  
  
“Goddamned bastard,” Jensen huffs as he holds his hands out. Jared quickly secures the rope around them before binding Jensen’s feet.  
  
He stares uncomprehendingly at Jensen before moving to get two shallow dishes. One he fills with water and puts within rolling distance. The other he leaves empty and puts the same amount of distance away, but in the opposite direction.  
  
“Jared?”  
  
He doesn’t respond except to reach down and unzip Jensen’s fly. His hand snakes in quickly and pulls Jensen’s dick out. For a few moment’s Jensen is confused as hell before he realizes that the water dish is for if he gets thirsty and the other one is for what happens if he drinks too much.  
  
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’re going to be gone that long?”  
  
Jared’s retreating footsteps are his only answer.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jensen’s a stubborn cuss. He spends most of his day trying to work his way out of his bindings. He does eventually go to the water. Humiliating as it is to lap at the dish like a dog, he can’t afford to get dehydrated.  
  
When Jared returns, he’s bleeding. His beard has dark patches where blood is dripping off the bristles, and he’s got a cut over his eyebrow. There is what looks like a stab wound over his left pectoral, and he’s limping.  
  
When his hands reach down to untie the bindings, Jensen can see that they’re cover in blood and dirt almost all the way to Jared’s elbows. Jared’s only got his sleeves rolled up that far, so Jensen can’t see if the gore travels farther. In any case, he’s betting that it isn’t Jared’s blood that is coloring the skin.  
  
After releasing Jensen from the ropes, Jared sits down on the floor of the cave and starts to whimper. He pulls his shirt off in desperate tugging motions instead of unbuttoning it. He tears at the hole from the stab wound until the fabric gives way to his brute strength. The shirt rips unevenly, and clings to his body in tatters.  
  
Jared tries to tilt his own head down to lick at the wound, making frustrated whines when he can’t bend enough to get more than the edge of the injury with his tongue. There are first aid kits stacked along the wall, and Jensen knows that Jared knows how to use them. Either Jared is a complete masochist, or he’s so far gone that he can’t remember how to fix himself properly.  
  
For a few moments, Jensen considers running. Jared is injured. He might not be strong enough to give proper chase. On the other hand, if Jared is hurt less than he appears to be, it would be like taunting a wounded animal. Jensen doesn’t want to test the theory of them being the most vicious.  
  
“Hey, stop that,” Jensen says softly as he creeps across the stone floor to grab a kit. Jared pauses in his frantic licking but starts back up again.  
  
Jensen sighs but comes over anyway. He needs to get this done as quickly as possible because he has to pee. He slides one hand into Jared’s hair, palming the back of his neck and creeps the other onto the exposed skin of Jared’s chest.  
  
“I think that maybe you’d rather that heal, huh?” Jensen suggests softly.  
  
Jared whimpers and leans his head into the hand cradling the back of his skull. Tears are leaking out of his eyes, and his wound doesn’t appear to change.  
  
“You know. You can do this. You want that to be better,” Jensen tries with a sterner tone. He can feel his powers pushing against Jared’s mind, but it’s like water hitting up against a wall. It’s not something that he’s felt except for when he’s actually battling with somebody’s will instead of their body.  
  
He’s good at first aid. He can use the med kits over in the corner as well as any nurse or medical intern. They have trained him that way in the case that he is ever in the field and runs out of juice for healing his fellow soldiers with his brain. But Jensen doesn’t want to use that option for some reason that he can’t identify.  
  
“Jared, listen to me. HEAL,” he says with a shake to the man’s head. He feels like sort of an idiot giving that order. Given how far gone Jared is, he sounds more like he’s giving a dog a command to appropriately follow its master than it does anything else.  
  
Jared’s eyes finally focus on him, the barest hint of recognition flares into them before he’s screaming and writhing on the floor, clutching at his hair and pulling so hard that Jensen’s half afraid he is going to start pulling bloody strands of it right off his head. The fit goes on for a few minutes before Jared stills, his wounds are gone, but he’s panting heavily. His mouth is gaping open, and his tongue is actually hanging out of it.  
  
It’s frightening, but there isn’t anything that Jensen can do, and he still has to go. He almost faints when he gets up. He feels achy and light headed and nauseated. He stumbles outside to relieve himself before dragging himself back into the cave to rest. He collapses onto the cot and can barely spare a thought to the fact that he should probably toss a blanket over Jared before he drops off into unconsciousness himself.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jensen wakes up to a light being shown in his eye.  
  
“He’s awake!” A man is yelling, and the sounds of sneakered feet echo in linoleum paved hallways.  
  
“What’s going on?” He slurs sleepily.  
  
“What is going on is that you are a walking miracle!”  
  
“Thanks. That’s what my mom always said.” Jensen retorts. Now that there aren’t bright shiny things burring into his vision, he can see that he’s at the compound infirmary.  
  
“He’s never brought one back alive before,” the doctor tells him in wonder.  
  
And yeah, Jensen knows that. As much as he’s thrilled to still be living, he isn’t that thrilled to be back at the compound. He knows what is coming, and the debriefing on this is going to be a bitch.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The psychic thing must be developing, because as he predicted, Jensen’s debriefing lasts for over four and a half hours. Blake and his cronies are in serious trouble. Ironically, his henchmen are going to be in far worse shape than him because there isn’t any proof that he ordered them to basically attempt to murder Jensen with a lethal Jared.  
  
Blake is going to get some privileges taken away. The others are going to be taken out of the housing facilities, and that is all Jensen wants to know about them. His lack of curiosity is probably a good thing given that all the trainers, handlers, doctors, psychologists and management personnel only want to talk about Jared.  
  
 He can’t answer most of their questions. He doesn’t know why Jared didn’t kill him. At one point he suggests they ask Jared if they want to know so badly. That one doesn’t go over too well. Jared responds to his handlers. There is even one that he’ll do a short mission for, but Jared doesn’t talk to them beyond basic information.  
  
The only thing they can seem to agree upon is that Jared’s animal instincts saw Jensen as unthreatening. They differ on the reason why. Some think it was because he was already damaged and bound when he was put in Jared’s territory, and Jared felt protective. Others think that Jared saw the assailants throw Jensen in, and Jared knew that Jensen wasn’t willingly trespassing. Some just plain think that Jensen was submissive enough to Jared that he adopted him instead of seeing him as a challenger.  
  
Jensen heartily disagrees with that last thought, but they keep bringing up the damn bite mark on the back of his neck. And, well, yes he purposely kept from provoking Jared, but he hardly rolled over for him. It’s just that he was wounded, and he was waiting for the right moment to strike is all. It isn’t his fault that that moment didn’t arrive.  
  
They finally let him go once it finally dawns on them that no matter how many theories they toss at Jensen, he isn’t going to suddenly spout out some enlightening factoid because he doesn’t have anything left to share.  
  
He goes back to his old room to crash. The only perk about being in freak school is that it isn’t a prison in the traditional way. Every freak has his own room. There is hardly a line of new, super powered weirdoes waiting for a chance at Jensen’s not-so-sweet digs, so his place is still vacant.  
  
That isn’t to say that all of Jensen’s stuff is there. His few personal mementos and his all important stash of lube and condoms are both gone. The personal items will be returned quickly. Jensen knows that they don’t destroy any possessions until the investigation into a disappearance or death is finalized.  
  
Blake’s friends had spun a story about Jensen trying to escape into Jared’s territory. That Jensen thought he could us his powers persuade Jared to help him escape.  It was ludicrous tale, but as it had actually kept Jensen’s things from being destroyed, he can’t bring himself to judge it too harshly.  
  
Through the various interviews that he’s been through, Jensen has been able to glean that the injuries that Jared sustained had come from an attempt to get him to go on one of the very short missions that the facility would sometimes send him on.  
  
Jared had become violent at the thought of leaving his territory. The administrators wouldn’t share the details behind what happened. But the gist of the situation was that there was a legitimate op that needed to be done. They had also needed to retrieve Jensen’s carcass. The administration had figured that they’d kill two birds with one stone. Getting the operation completed, and having Jensen’s corpse back by the time that Jared returned to his grounds had been a great plan as far as they were concerned.  
  
Only Jared had not been down with that plan at all. For the first time in ages he’d refused to respond to his handlers. They had never been allowed set foot on his territory, but as long as they asked him, he would jump at their back and call and go on a mission. He hadn’t outright denied their requests in years.  
  
Now that Jensen thinks of it, it is sort of disgusting. Whatever these operations are that they are using Jared on, they more than likely ended bloody. If Jared refuses the assignment? Well, Jensen has seen the results. They aren’t pretty.  
  
A knock on Jensen’s door heralds the arrival of one of the supply room underlings bringing him new toiletries and a change of clothing. His used clothing will be returned to him shortly. His stash of supplies will take longer.  
  
Jensen doesn’t push the point about his supplies. There is every chance that they’ll just revoke his rights to them if he makes a fuss. The trainers like to pretend that they aren’t regimented bastards that have taken away the ‘gifted’ people’s rights. As long as your possessions are not harmful to yourself or others, you possessions are yours. The fact that they consider communications devices ‘harmful’ means nothing according to them. As does the fact that the gifted can’t leave and can’t try to live their lives the way they want and can’t…  
  
Jensen takes a deep breath to try to calm himself. There is a lot that he just can’t do anymore, and thinking about it isn’t going to help him. He isn’t beaten, and he isn’t punished when he fails to show progress in his training.  Overall, he feels much like he’s a pet - a horse or a show dog that’s trained, exercised and fed a regimented diet to get him to his peak performance levels. Life could be worse.  
  
Flopping down onto the bed, Jensen is left to just stare at the blank and carefully not sterile walls of his room. It’s small, but it’s blandly homey. The walls are beige, but have some sort of light blue and green sponge work or distressing or texturizing or something on them. Jensen almost wishes that he had paid attention when his mom had decided to remodel their home so he at least had a word for what he had to look at every day.  
  
The walls aren’t that fascinating, and Jensen doesn’t want to venture out of his room into the common areas just yet. The rest of the gifted are going to be too damned curious for their own good. This means that Jensen is essentially bored out of his gourd. He can’t even reread his books until the underlings finish digging them out of whatever hole they were sent to. He’s not sure what is taking so long except for the fact that he thinks the place is run by the government, so that has to mean fifteen forms and thirty signatures need to be filled out before he gets anything.  
  
Idly, he rolls over onto his stomach and ponders how much paperwork they have to do when Jared kills someone. It has to be a lot. Maybe there are meetings and reviews and possibly there are quotas for acceptable loss of life.  
  
He is just about to slip off to sleep when he sees a mouse peek its little nose out from under the recliner that he has in his room. He stares at it for a while. There isn’t anything in the room that he can use to kill it, and mouse brain or not, he doesn’t think he can just use his powers persuade it that it would like to have a peaceful death. He overtaxed himself trying to heal Jared, and he isn’t so sure that part of the reason he couldn’t get through to the other man was because Jared’s mind was almost gone to the point of animalism.  
  
The door flies open with a bang and two men come in with his boxed up belongings. The one is glaring at him as if he is personally offended by the contents of the bin. Jensen fights back the urge to stick his tongue out at the guy. It isn’t any of his business what Jensen does with his lube and condom allotment.  
  
Somewhere in all the bustle, the mouse decides that it needs to make a break for it. It darts and scurries and almost gets tromped on by a heavy leather boot but makes it out the door. The deliverymen leave shortly after, and Jensen forgets about his visitor to begin his unpacking.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Four days later, Jensen is certain that the mouse is stalking him. It seems that everywhere that he turns he can see a little grey body watching. It’s amazing how he never noticed any rodents around before except for the occasional squirrel that would run by outside. He’s half convinced that there is a new gifted in the compound that is taking the form of a mouse to observe him.  
  
Just because he’s never seen a shape shifter before doesn’t mean they don’t exist.  
  
He’s made up his mind that if the damn mouse comes by for a fifth day, he’s going to go complain. Jensen doesn’t care if it puts him in the ‘special’ ward with all the nutcases whose powers caused them to go ape shit. He isn’t letting some freak stalk him. He’s got Blake for that.  
  
Of course, as Jensen’s luck has never been that great, day five doesn’t bring the mouse.  
  
Day five brings Jared.  
  
At first, Jensen doesn’t recognize him. His shoulders are a little hunched over, and he’s flinching. There is no beard on his face, and if it weren’t for the enormous height and breadth of him, Jensen would swear that he was just imagining Jared’s eyes in another man’s visage.  
  
“Hey, Jensen,” Jared mumbles to him once he gets close enough. His eyes are darting everywhere around him. He’s clearly out of his comfort zone. Too far away from his territory, and Jensen hopes that none of the others recognize Jared when he’s like this. They’ll see it as an opportunity to attack. They’ll misconstrue his behavior as a moment of weakness.  
  
It would be a bloodbath, and Jensen wants no part of it.  
  
“Hey,” Jensen greets the other man calmly.  
  
“You, uh, how’re you… I brought you something.” Jared blurts out. His massive paw of a hand is shaking as he thrusts out a bag full of wild blueberries.  
  
“They’re just ripening now, and I know that the food isn’t good. It’s never good, what the cooks make in these places. Momma always said that we should pray for the troops because they never ate anything tasty because everything was made in such large quantities that it couldn’t be made to taste good by anybody,” Jared bites down on his lip as he finishes speaking. His eyes are firmly focused on Jensen’s boot laces.  
  
It’s the longest stretch of words that Jensen has ever heard Jared put together. It’s actually the most words that Jared’s ever said to him in total.  
  
“Thanks?” Jensen hates that he can hear the question mark at the end of his own sentence, but he can’t help it. He’s confused. Questions on the end of sentences that should be statements are a great way to show confusion.  
  
“Okay,” Jared says nodding his head up and down.  
  
“Jared?”  
  
“Gotta go. Later.” Jared mumbles as he dashes away.  
  
Jensen is left standing there with a bag of blueberries in one hand and a ball of frustration in the other. He is going to have to report the encounter, and he had high hopes for snagging a good seat in the movie room that afternoon. Now there is no way he is going to get out of the interrogation in time.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The mouse appears the next day, and Jensen dutifully reports it. His assigned squad trainer laughs at Jensen’s suggestion of it being a shape shifter, but he notes Jensen’s report anyway. There are a lot of powers in the compound, and you never know what somebody might develop the ability to do.  
  
The mouse never stays around for long. It’s just there and gone in its freaky mouse way. Jensen’s taken to throwing things at it, but it keeps coming back.  
  
So does Jared. Most times he doesn’t talk. He just kind of filters in from nowhere looking skittish and scared and acting like he’s downed the commissary’s entire supply of caffeinated beverages. He usually comes to see Jensen when he’s alone. The day that Jensen gets put on laundry duty for persuading one of Blake’s new followers to glue his fingers together, Jared shows up halfway through to help fold the standard issue sheets and towels.  
  
The guard on duty doesn’t say anything, but then again neither does Jared.  
  
On landscaping day, Jared arrives with a shovel and a threadbare wife beater on. Jensen isn’t of the mind to ignore the help. Yard work has never been Jensen’s thing. When he was young, he used to bribe his brother, his sister and any neighborhood friends he had into mowing the lawn when his turn came around.  
  
 At the facility, he doesn’t have that option. All gifted with the ability to alter a life form are put on landscaping duty because it supposedly helps them connect back to the earth and appreciate the value of life. Jensen thinks that is bunk. They’re getting free labor out of the freaks and calling it therapy.  
  
The trainers probably wouldn’t even allow Jared to help Jensen out if not for the fact that it is Jared, and he has a shovel. That and Jared is scarily efficient in what he does. Each time he takes his spade to the ground, he places one large hand down on the soil and just touches it for a while before starting. Why he does that, Jensen hasn’t a clue, but he isn’t stupid enough to ask. Counting on continuing luck with the most dangerous man in the compound would be foolish.  
  
They don’t exchange many words while they work. Jared hasn’t really talked since the incident with the blueberries, but he smiles every time that Jensen looks in his direction. Jared also steals tiny glances when he thinks that Jensen isn’t paying attention. They are almost shy in their demeanor, but Jensen doesn’t have a chance to work up the courage to ask about them.  
  
The instant that Jensen goes to dig the hole for the final shrub that needs to be planted, Jared bolts. One minute the giant man is there, the next he is gone.  
  
If not for the debriefings that Jensen goes through after each visit from Jared, their time together would almost be companionable. Jared never pushes for anything. He doesn’t make lewd comments, and he doesn’t brag about his powers or make insinuations about Jensen’s.  
  
That Jared has killed several people never escapes Jensen’s mind for long. He knows that there is a chance that one day it will be him. Jared’s interest in him is unusual, and unusual interest can lead to some pretty dangerous stuff even in normal, non-powered up people.  
  
“Do you like mushrooms?” Jared’s voice doesn’t just break Jensen from his reverie, it scares him shitless.  
  
A tiny, very girly scream crawls its way out of Jensen’s mouth before he spins around and slaps Jared’s very manly, very solid chest. Jensen’s actions only frighten him more because he just attacked crazy Jared, and from the feel of him, he could probably crack walnuts between his pectoral muscles.  
  
“What are you doing down here?” Jensen hisses after a moment. Jared doesn’t look too upset about the whole slapping thing, but changing the subject is a good idea.  
  
“Asking you if you like mushrooms?” Jared’s eyebrows raise, and his mouth tilts up just a touch as he replies.  
  
“Very funny,” Jensen retorts with as arrogant a sneer as he can manage. Given the spreading amusement on Jared’s face, he isn’t very successful.  
  
“Look, I just wanted to see you, okay? And there’s always… people around you. But you’re almost always alone when you’re on inventory duty because nobody else really likes the reality of just how many cans of green beans that the kitchen has in stock,” Jared mumbles.  
  
“And you do?”  
  
“I like green beans!” Jared declares with an overly sunny smile.  
  
Despite himself, Jensen returns a tiny smile of his own at the enthusiasm. “You look like you could eat half our stock.”  
  
“Not in one sitting, but yeah, probably. I’m not so picky these days.”  
  
Jensen’s smile dims a little. He remembers the bunker like feel of Jared’s cave well enough. “Yeah, I guess that you don’t exactly keep ice cream on hand, huh?”  
  
Jared shakes his head and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. It’s an odd action from a man who is so completely terrifying. “I used to like strawberry,” he tells Jensen like it’s some sort of secret.  
  
“Well, they let us have ice cream on Wednesdays,” Jensen says.  
  
An awkward silence follows his comment. The look on Jared’s face is one of pure melancholy before he finally shakes his head and says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jensen agrees because it isn’t a good idea at all.  
  
Jared helps him count the cans for a while, and Jensen turns a blind eye when he pockets a jar of maraschino cherries. Every time that Jensen turns around to put a can away or start on a new grouping, he expects Jared to vanish, but the other man hangs around. It’s the longest that one of his visits has lasted, and Jensen isn’t sure if he should try to speak or not.  
  
“I…” Jared chokes off on the word. When Jensen turns around to look at him, the bigger man’s skin is flushed red. His mouth is moving like it’s still trying to complete his sentence, but his eyes are unfocused and almost vacant. No, not vacant. They’re like an animal’s. Jared is present, but he isn’t all there.  
  
Unthinkingly, Jensen reaches out to touch. Jared flinches away and moves away, but he hesitates, glancing back over his shoulder at Jensen.  
  
“It’s okay,” Jensen says, using the same tone of voice that he used to us on the neighbor’s dog when he was younger. He remembers liking dogs when he was a kid, before his change came, and the program stole him away.  
  
Jared snarls at him when Jensen’s fingers brush over the back of one of his hands. “Shhh,” Jensen soothes. There is a chance that he is taking his life into his hands. There is every possibility that Jared is going to flip out and try to strangle Jensen, but there isn’t much about Jensen’s life that’s worth saving. He isn’t suicidal, but he also wants something more to his life than training some ‘gift’ into a useable weapon for some organization that he isn’t sure he supports.  
  
The man whose hand he is touching might have killed people, but Jensen isn’t so sure anymore that he’s a murderer. An executioner maybe, but from the glimpses that he’s gotten into Jared, Jensen is starting to think that the man is more of a powered fuck up than Jensen himself is. The ‘gift’ can screw with its person’s head, and Jensen is ready to lay money on the fact that Jared’s brain is like Swiss cheese because of his.  
  
Not that Jensen has tons of information to base that assumption on, but he is getting reckless in his old age. If nothing else, Jared doesn’t appear to want to murder him. Jensen will probably only get maimed if he screws up too badly.  
  
“Why don’t you just come back to me?” Jensen suggests while he tries to push his powers through to Jared by his touch. The sensation that he gets back in return is almost identical to the one that he felt when he tried to convince Jared to heal himself in the cave. It’s like slamming into something very had and yet insubstantial. Jensen’s own mind can’t make heads or tails of it.  
  
The hand under Jensen’s gets yanked away, and Jensen is treated to a view of Jared’s retreating backside. It’s very unsatisfying. Jensen never was a fan of mysteries.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next day, Jensen wakes up with the mouse curled up on his chest.  
  
“You know,” he conversationally says to the small rodent, “I got good grades in school. I’m not exactly an idiot.”  
  
The timing of the mouse showing up isn’t coincidence. It has to be tied to Jared in some way. Although, Jensen will be honest that he really hopes that Jared isn’t actually the mouse. The physics of that hurt his brain too much. He can’t be bothered to appreciate the poetic irony of it.  
  
The mouse’s whiskers twitch, and it sniffs him. Then it scurries down his torso onto his bedcovers and over the edge of the bed to the floor. It runs across his room to hide under his dresser where it turns around so that its beady little eyes can watch Jensen.  
  
As he gets up and changes his clothes, Jensen doubles his prayers that the mouse isn’t Jared. He isn’t ready to reach the next level of weird in their relationship.  
  
The mouse follows Jensen around for a few more days then disappears. If Jensen’s hypothesis is correct, it means that Jared is about to come for a visit. In between interviews with their keepers about his interactions with Jared, and Jensen’s regular training and duties, Jensen has been working on scripting out some conversations to have with the other man. Nothing too in depth, he isn’t sure that Jared could handle that. But he has noticed that Jared is trying to communicate with him, and Jensen isn’t the kind of person to turn away an honest outreach.  
  
Okay, he isn’t that kind of person now. Old Jensen, the one who hadn’t spent the last few years of his life locked away in some compound, would have run the other way from a person like Jared. But he has a different view of the world these days, and he likes Jared. If there is one thing that Jensen is certain about, it is that Jared thinks he is special. Jensen isn’t dead. Everybody else is. That there deserves at least a little gratitude on Jensen’s part.  
  
Jared doesn’t show up while Jensen is working on the hedges, but Jensen doesn’t let it bother him. Sure, he likes it best when Jared helps him with the landscaping, but that is just a personal desire to get out of work. It really doesn’t have anything to do with the companionship. Jared is usually more relaxed when they’re in a more controlled environment, and the outdoors isn’t one of those situations.  
  
But that night, Jensen can hear the sound of helicopters landing, and the noise of booted feet tramping down the hallways. The administration only guards the hallways so tightly when there is a chance that one of the gifted is going to try to break out. Only the crazy ones try to leave when there isn’t transportation around, but the crazy like a fox ones? Jensen knows that they’re just waiting for the day that they can hijack one of the helicopters that the program uses to move their sufficiently trained gifted out into the field.  
  
If Jensen’s powers were farther along, he might even contemplate being one of those people. As it stands now, he knows that he has no hope of making it five feet past the compound wall. Or he does, but he doesn’t like Jared’s cave all that much. Jared doesn’t have a shower with hot and cold running water. That’s kind of a big deal breaker in Jensen’s mind.  
  
Besides that, there is a very good chance that Jared is being loaded onto the chopper right now. He is one of the few gifted that gets sent on missions. He isn’t reliable, not hardly, but he is controllable so long as nobody cares who it is that he kills. Jensen has seen the tranquilizer guns that all of the guards carry. He doesn’t know how many times they have to shoot Jared to take him out, but he’s certain that they do shoot him.  
  
Someday, if Jared keeps visiting Jensen, he’ll ask him about it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jared doesn’t show back up for days and neither does the mouse. At first it doesn’t bother Jensen. Jared can’t show up in a place that he isn’t physically located at. But when four days pass after Jensen hears the helicopters return, he starts to worry. He wouldn’t call Jared and him friends, but Jensen doesn’t have anybody else that much cares about him. He isn’t screwed in the head enough yet to consider Blake’s harassment to be attention.  
  
Most of the other gifted are either too embroiled in their own situations to truly become a friend or companion. Not that Jared isn’t wrapped up in his powers. Of all those in training, he is probably the most caught up in what has happened to him.  But Jared isn’t choosing to wallow in the unfair changes in his life. At least, Jensen doesn’t think that he is. It is almost like Jared is a prisoner of his body more than the program, and Jensen can give him the sort of sympathy that he can’t give anybody else because of it. Jared isn’t in the same boat as the rest of them. He’s in a worse boat, one that’s about to capsize.  
  
Regardless of what leaky canoe of life that Jared is in, Jensen doesn’t see said boat come in his direction. Part of Jensen worries that the last mission turned out to be the one that Jared didn’t come back from. The notion seems desperately unfair to Jensen. As friendless as Jensen has been for the past few years, he can only imagine that Jared has been worse off. Nobody wants to befriend the local psycho. To die shortly after making steps to get away from your crazed exile seems like an unfairly ironic twist on life.  
  
There isn’t much that Jensen can do about the Jared situation though. The administration is likely not going to be any help if he asks them. Worse than that, asking questions might make them ask a few of their own. Jensen isn’t a flight risk or a danger, but he doesn’t want their scrutiny if he can avoid it.  
  
So he carries on for a few more days by pretending that there is nothing going on inside of him. He goes to his training sessions and does his assigned tasks and avoids the other gifted like they’ve got a plague he desperately does not want.  
  
It’s pretty much status quo for him until Thursday. Thursday is declared picnic day by the powers that be. Jensen isn’t sure if it is a sign that one of the inmates did something unspeakable to the indoor dining area or a sign that they’re trying to give Jensen and his fellow fair skinned compatriots sun burn. Maybe they’re part of a long term control group for testing skin cancer rates in the gifted versus normal humans. Jensen wouldn’t put it past them. The administration seems to be scarily certain of their future funding.  
  
The food isn’t any better when eaten outdoors than when it is served inside. The only true ‘picnic’ food that is served is watermelon, but the rest of it is typical cafeteria style slop. Instant mashed potatoes and creamed corn congeal together on Jensen’s plate as he tries to saw through the tough, far too overcooked meatloaf that serves as the day’s ‘meat.’ Not even the gravy that they served is helping to soften the hunk of food, and Jensen is so intent on stabbing his way through it that he doesn’t notice the sudden cessation of talking around him at first.  
  
When a shadow crosses over him, blocking the sun’s rays from beating down, Jensen doesn’t look up. He is in a very, very foul mood. His isn’t up for more games or bullying, and he isn’t stupid enough to think that Blake and his cronies are going to leave him alone forever.  
  
“Hey,” Jared’s hesitant voice rumbles.  
  
Jensen almost gets whiplash from moving his head so fast, but he feels okay about that. Most of the other gifted around him are openly staring as well. There is a good chance he isn’t going to get heckled for his behavior. The rest of the group is likely stunned to see Jared out and about, let alone talking to Jensen.  
  
Every time that Jared has left his area, he has only been seen by the guards. And Jensen isn’t even sure if all of the guards know that Jared has been visiting him. As far as the rest of their fellow prisoners are concerned, Jared is a ruthless killer that hides out in his section of woods and eats you on sight. They aren’t that far from the truth except for the fact that Jared allowed Jensen to live. And Jensen doesn’t think that Jared has ever actually eaten anybody.  
  
Biting has happened. Jensen still has the scars from where Jared marked him with his mouth, but beyond that there have been a few corpses with teeth marks in them. If there is a line in Jared’s mind about literally involving his mouth in a fight, he doesn’t have a problem with crossing it.  
  
“Can I sit down?” Jared mumbles. He sounds nervous, edging into being terrified.  
  
Seeing Jared out in public is still too much of a shock for Jensen’s brain to handle, especially after spending the past minutes and hours and days trying to keep from speculating on Jared’s demise. Mutely, Jensen waves at the space next to himself in invitation. Jared all but slams down onto the bench, making the picnic table shake with the force of his weight. His eyes keep darting all around them, and Jensen can feel the larger man’s leg shaking where it presses against his own.  
  
Clearing his throat, Jensen’s brain furiously grinds away looking for something to say. “So, what’s up?” probably isn’t the wittiest phrase that he has ever turned, but it works.  
  
“I…” Jared’s throat clicks as it tries to swallow nonexistent spit three times in a row.  
  
“The meatloaf is awesome,” Jensen sarcastically says when it becomes obvious that Jared isn’t going to get another word out of his mouth. Humor is a great way to break tension, or so he’s heard.  
  
The way that Jared stabs his slab of meatloaf and gnaws into it in response is far too close to his caveman behavior for most of the gifted watching the two of them. At least, Jensen assumes that is why they all shrink away even though they’re not to the point of running away yet. Good entertainment is hard to find when you live in a compound.  
  
“Can I have yours?” Jared says to his plate. It takes a moment for Jensen to realize that Jared is asking about his tough and practically inedible meatloaf.  
  
“You actually like it?” Jensen asks as he forks the weird slab of ‘meat’ over on Jared’s plate.  
  
Large shoulders shrug in response, and Jared’s face flushes bright red as he stops eating the meatloaf and starts stirring his potatoes and corn together. “Squirrel is worse.”  
  
That makes Jensen feel downright foolish. He has seen Jared’s cave. Sure it has more amenities than he would have imagined Jared had based on the stories and legends revolving around the feral man, but he also has one doozy of a mark on the back of his neck thanks to what he assumes were Jared’s feral instincts. What is a little squirrel eating compared to manslaughter?  
  
“I hear that some places find squirrel meat to be a delicacy,” Jensen offers. He isn’t sure where he heard that, and he doesn’t so much care.  
  
“Not when you eat it fresh and raw off the bones,” Jared answers glumly.  
  
So the thought makes Jensen gag a little. He isn’t ashamed to admit that, and Jared doesn’t look terribly affronted by it. The guy seems to be in his right mind at the moment, so Jensen figures he can recognize his aberrant behaviors. Which, come to think of it, has to suck on epic levels.  
  
Gently, he places his hand over Jared’s. He projects thoughts of calmness and even hunger onto the other man. If Jared’s going to eat slop, he might as well make sure that it is cooked slop.  
  
“This was a bad idea,” Jared mutters under his breath as he shovels watery mashed potatoes into his mouth. The other gifted are starting to openly stare, and Jensen switches to just focusing on non-homicidal love thoughts. The hand under his tenses, and when Jensen risks a look at Jared’s face, it has turned a brilliant shade of red.  
  
“It’s okay,” Jensen instantly soothes. “You’re doing great.”  
  
A whimper is all that he gets for a verbal response. Jared is busy staring off into space. His body keeps shifting on the bench with nervous energy.  
  
The tables around them have noticed Jared’s mood change. They’re still there watching, but they are also readying themselves to flee. Jensen can see it in their postures. But being in a ‘training facility’ for abnormal humans hasn’t gotten rid of their very human instinct to rubberneck. People love a train wreck so long as they aren’t on the train.  
  
“Hey,” Jensen tries again, putting his other hand underneath Jared’s palm, trapping the large paw between both of his own. “Breathe,” he commands.  
  
Jared takes in an unsteady breath and then a second, deeper one. He exhales with a shudder and an almost pained whimper.  
  
“Better?” Jensen asks.  
  
“Not really,” comes the tight answer.  
  
That doesn’t sound good, but it is still encouraging that Jared is capable of verbal communication.  
  
“You think that you can make it back to your territory?” Jensen asks. It is the only solution that he can think of that might work.  
Jared nods, but wraps his hand around Jensen’s wrist. He gives it a tug as he stands.  
  
“You want me to come with?” Jensen doesn’t mean for his voice to carry, he doesn’t. But it does anyway, and if he thought people were looking before, it is nothing compared to how they are staring now.  
  
“Yes,” the tiny hiss from Jared’s mouth is full of want and longing. Jensen doesn’t need to be touching Jared’s skin to feel it.  
  
“Are you sure about that?” Jensen checks. The last thing he needs is for Jared to go feral on him while he is in Jared’s domain.  
  
But Jared nods vehemently, and Jensen follows after. He can feel the stares of his fellow ‘gifted’ on his back as he walks. He catches half whispers of their conversations. They’re either awed by his bravery or his stupidity. There isn’t a one of them that thinks going anywhere with Jared is a rational idea.  
  
Then again, they’re also perplexed by Jared showing up to eat with them at all. As it has happened precisely never, Jensen can only guess what sorts of gossip will be flowing about Jared come the morning. It will be interesting, that much is for certain.  
  
The trip to Jared’s cave is far different from the last time that Jensen went there. For one thing he isn’t being carried around. While he is still partly frightened, the sheer levels of terror just aren’t there anymore.  
  
“If you’re just taking me here so that I can play captive again,” Jensen half jokes as he crouches under the bent up fencing.  
  
Jared snorts like he thinks that is funny, and Jensen smiles a little. Joking about his abduction is crass, and he knows it. But as far as he is concerned, his first abduction is the one that counts. The bastards that performed that feat don’t have a feral mind to blame their issues on.  
  
The cave is in a little bit better condition than when Jensen saw it last. Then again, the last time he’d been there, the décor hadn’t been something he had been overly concerned about save for how the contents of the cave might aide his escape.  
  
“I tried to clean up a little. For you,” Jared mumbles as he fluffs the pillow on what looks like a chair from a patio set.  
  
Jared must notice him looking, because he flushes red. “I, they allot us furniture and stuff, but the nice reading chairs don’t keep so well in the weather. It gets damp in the cave.”  
  
Jensen can imagine. It is a nice enough cave as far as caves go, but it isn’t civilized shelter.  
  
“So how do they keep you here? Being as the accommodations are so nice?” isn’t the best way to start a conversation with a man who has proven himself to be mentally unstable. Hell, it isn’t even a good way to start out a conversation with anybody.  
  
The sadness that fills Jared’s eyes, the shame is something Jensen wasn’t expecting though. “They don’t,” he whispers to the floor.  
  
Jensen knows he is doing one of those ridiculous fish mouth moments. “Excuse me? I thought you just said…”  
  
“That they don’t keep me here,” Jared finished his sentence for him as he sits down on a large boulder next to the lawn chair. Jensen swears that boulder wasn’t there before.  
  
“They don’t. Not going to lie about it,” Jared says as he gestures for Jensen to sit.  
  
Warily, Jensen accepts the offer. On the one quarter of his left pinky finger, he is thrilled that Jared seems to have broken out of his almost caveman funk that he had seemed to be settling into back at the compound. On the remainder of his left hand plus his right hand and the rest of his body, Jensen is disturbed.  
  
What is he supposed to ask Jared? “So, you must like all those bloody missions, huh?” That sounds like an incredibly bad thing to say.  
  
Thankfully, Jared decides to explain, so Jensen doesn’t have to ask any questions. “I’m stuck here, Jensen. My, my gift it keeps me here.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
“Territory,” Jared answers. “It’s why I can’t stop myself from killing all those people. As much as I can slip under that gate, I can’t leave my area.”  
  
“But you get taken on missions,” Jensen argues.  
  
“Yeah, but it’s like taking a dog away from its home or maybe a cat or a goddamned homing pigeon. I come back, Jensen. I have to come back. I’m their trained animal, obeying its ‘pack leaders’.”  
  
“And me?” Jensen asks.  
  
Jared shrugs. “They’re not sure. I just… accepted you as pack for some reason. I remember thinking that I needed to protect you from the bullies. But, before you think that is a good thing, I also thought that you were mine. As in, you know, ** _mine_**.”  
  
“Oh,” is all that Jensen can think to say. It isn’t like he hadn’t thought something along those lines, but it is different hearing it just put out there.  
  
“Besides,” Jared says after a beat, “it isn’t like they don’t still keep tabs on me should I somehow decide to up and leave.” The tone in his voice is off. Not that Jensen is an expert on what Jared’s tones sound like given how little he speaks, but there is something behind Jared’s words.  
  
When Jensen looks closely at Jared’s face, the other man’s eyes dart back and forth a little, pointed glances being directed out at foliage and rocks. Confusion clouds Jensen’s mind for a moment before he realizes that Jared wants him to know that they’re being watched, likely listened to as well.  
  
That isn’t exactly a big surprise for Jensen. Jared is terrifying, but he isn’t immortal. If one of the other gifted, Jensen for example, was to make a break for it and break Jared in the process…  
  
But that conclusion is obvious, and unnecessary - which means that Jared has something else he is trying to express, something that he can’t say because they’re being watched. The only conclusion that Jensen can draw from that is that Jared is trying to say that he wants to escape. Which is stupid because most everybody in the compound does want to escape, that isn’t a newsflash worth whispering over.  
  
Only, only Jensen is the one who Jared didn’t kill. He’s the one who forced Jared’s almost feral mind to bend to his will. Jensen is the stranger that Jared’s confused mind refused to eliminate like it had so many others.  
  
Jensen once swore that he would do anything he could to get away from the compound. He wouldn’t be foolish about it, but he would take the opportunity if it was ever presented. Now that he is being offered that chance, he isn’t sure he should take it.  
  
The only way that he is leaving is if he is with Jared, and Jensen isn’t sure that is a wise idea. Jared is not fully human half the time. As much as it pains Jensen to agree with his captors, he isn’t sure that a place like the one they’re at isn’t the best place for a man of Jared’s gifts.  
  
But he can also see the devastation in Jared’s eyes. He might devolve into a feral thing for their captors to manipulate, but he is also a human being. Is it right for Jensen to seal Jared’s fate of never being anything more than an eviscerating lapdog?  
  
“I want you to come visit me, more often,” Jared whispers softly, lovingly. It is an act, that love. There isn’t anything in Jared’s eyes save pure terror. He’s desperate for Jensen to catch a clue.  
  
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Jensen tells him.  
  
“Jensen, please,” Jared is begging now. “I haven’t been myself in so long. I, I’m me when I’m around you.”  
  
Part of Jensen wants to ask why he should want to visit a ‘me’ that bites men’s neck so they scar over or binds men up captive in a cave. But he knows he is being unfair. He has felt the insanity that Jared’s power holds over his brain. That strange, animalistic possessiveness is likely as much a part of his gift as anything else.  
  
And Jensen can control that. He’s Beauty to Jared’s Beast. And that revelation is a really annoying one to have. Why does Jensen always have to be the passive touchy-feely one? Why can’t he be the kick ass powers guy?  
  
If he goes with this plan, if he agrees to be Jared’s grounding rod or whatever, Jensen isn’t going to be free to do whatever he wants afterwards. Jared isn’t miraculously going to be better. Jensen isn’t a doctor, but he knows how difficult managing his own power is, and it doesn’t doing anything violent when he isn’t minding it.  
  
The worst thing it could possibly do while unchecked is give a guy with a food allergy a craving that would lead him to a date with his epipen, and Jensen isn’t even sure if it could do that. Forcing people into something against their will is far harder than not. The body doesn’t want to harm itself.  
  
But Jared is a different story. His mind goes away sometimes. Jensen has felt it. Is it the right thing to take a man like that out into civilization? On the other hand, how much of Jared’s problems occur because of his training? Is he only what his handlers want him to be?  
  
The quandary hurts Jensen’s head. He was going to be an actor for God’s sake, not a philosopher. He was only ever supposed to go far enough into a person’s head to get a read on a character, not become them. He wasn’t one of those ‘method’ people that got all obsessed or anything.  
  
The selfish part of Jensen wants to say ‘yes’ and damn the consequences. Jared is his best bet on getting out alive. Assuming that Jared doesn’t turn on him because his feral brain says that Jensen is trying to take him away from his territory, Jared is going to be an excellent physical block to attacks. Their keepers are already afraid of him, and Jared’s gift has enough power behind it to solidify those fears.  
  
Or so Jensen assumes. He doesn’t actually know the full extent of Jared’s powers, only that they make him a crazed killing machine on occasion.  
  
“Do you like squirrels?” Jared’s question seems like an abrupt departure from the previous subject.  
  
Jensen grimaces with the effort it takes not to whip his head around to look for intruders. Not only would that be pointless, it would also clue any interlopers in on the fact that there is something going on, something that Jensen doesn’t want them knowing about.  
  
“Squirrels?” he dumbly mimics back to Jared.  
  
“Yeah, a lot of people like squirrels or chipmunks, but they hate mice. They’re all rodents, you know? And given the chance a squirrel will next in your house just like a mouse would.”  
  
“I didn’t know that,” Jensen says while he tries to figure out what exactly is going on.  
  
“A lot of people don’t. Mice tend to be more prolific, but my parents used to get squirrels nesting in the attic. I didn’t mind though. I used to talk to them like they were my pets, the mice too,” Jared says with a look that can’t be interpreted as anything other than meaningful.  
  
And suddenly Jensen is on track with him. That damned mouse _has_ been coming on missions from Jared. It’s been checking up on Jensen which, while kind of creepy, is an excellent way for them to communicate. It also means that whatever sort of problems Jared has with his ‘gift’ he is hiding away his abilities from their keepers. Not once has the administration even hinted at Jared being able to talk to animals or whatever it is his power does.  
  
“So you like animals? Like all kinds?” Jensen asks in what he hopes sounds like a ‘getting to know you’ way instead of the fact finding question that it is.  
  
“Mostly mammals,” Jared says. “Insects and I don’t get along. Reptiles and amphibians are… too cold blooded, I guess? I like birds okay.”  
  
“I guess that’s pretty normal,” Jensen says, keeping up the pretense of having a conversation about pets or whatever the hell they’re supposed to be gabbing about.  
  
Jared laughs at that and shakes his head. Jensen doesn’t need fancy mind powers to know what that look means. Nothing about the gifted should ever be called normal.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Planning an escape should be more stressful than it is. Jensen figures that he should be losing sleep over it or worrying about his future should he and Jared get caught, but he doesn’t. He’s never thought of himself as suicidal before, but maybe he is. Maybe he just has nothing worth living for anymore, so he doesn’t care so much if what is left of his existence goes up  in smoke.  
  
Then again, he isn’t trying to kill himself, so suicidal likely isn’t the right word choice. Maybe he is just apathetic. In any case, not freaking out about the whole escape idea is probably good. It means that he is sleeping, and being rested will come in handy when he and Jared start running for their lives – or at least their freedom.  
  
Being a bit of a packrat pays off better than Jensen had ever thought it would. Where Jared can stockpile food, Jensen already has other necessities. He doesn’t have cash, neither of them do, but Jensen isn’t stupid enough to think that they can go on the run without soap and razors. A couple of guys their size who look like scruffy wild men? That is a surefire way to get the cops called on them once they make it to civilization, and that is before Jared tweaks out and proves just how wild he really is.  
  
So, okay, Jensen probably isn’t going to be letting Jared out of his sight after they get out of the facility. While it might be easier to disappear if they went their separate ways, Jensen can’t leave Jared alone and just hope for the best. He can pull Jared back online if his brain goes off wherever it goes. Or, at least, Jared won’t kill him if he tries.  
  
Not that staying together will be a completely one-sided benefit on Jared’s part. Jensen isn’t great in the wilderness.  He is okay at it; he’s been camping. But he can’t live off the land. Jared has problems remembering not to do just that. Plus, he is going to be handy in a fight.  
  
Jensen has been trained to fight, but he is under no illusion that he can take on actual field operatives. He has seen few of the gifted leave from their ‘protection’ area, but those that have were always talking about how they were getting moved up to advanced training.  
  
It would be stupid to fully train all of the gifted. That would be like asking for a revolt. The keepers aren’t that stupid.  
  
But Jared is an actual field agent, one that is pretty damned lethal and effective. If what he says is true, he feels the need to protect his territory and his pack. Currently his pack is Jensen, and Jensen is going to have his hands full convincing Jared not to form a new territory as soon as they get him away from his current one.  
  
This thing their planning is going to cause them to become mind bogglingly dependent on each other. That should be one of the most frightening things, yet Jensen feels a bit relieved by it. If it seemed too easy, he’d be worried.  
  
The bird singing outside of Jensen’s window is singing in Morse code.  It’s telling him the time and date that Jared is proposing they attempt their escape, but it is only doing it on every fourth song that it sings. The rest of it is happy bird twitter.  
  
Jared had been rather proud of himself for coming up with the code, and even more smug about getting an avian to do it for him. He has crazy good control over all mammals except for humans, and he likes to show it off. It isn’t even because he wants to impress Jensen. He wants to prove that he isn’t some mindless beast. It’s kind of sad.  
  
Then again, on bad days, Jared will pin Jensen to the forest floor and have himself a good sniff, sometimes even a lick or two. So the reminders that Jared does have a functioning brain are welcome. It reminds Jensen that there is something in there worth pushing for when he has to touch Jared and force his will on him.  
  
With a quick movement, Jensen dumps the latest batch of painkillers into the travel sack that he’d started putting together. Faking headaches after visiting with Jared had been easy enough. The keepers had been thrilled with the ‘progress’ that Jensen had been making with both the use of his own powers, and the stability of Jared’s moods.  
  
If they stayed much longer, Jensen wouldn’t be surprised if he found himself getting moved up to advanced training. The thought makes him shiver. He doesn’t want to be some operative for the very people who stole his life from him. He also knows better than to think that advanced training will make him better equipped to handle the world.  
  
Hollywood might not be accurate on over ninety percent of the garbage they produce, but Jensen sort of thinks that they’re right about super soldier programs. He can’t imagine that he’d turn into anything but a jaded, soulless mess if he got through advanced training. He’d be a drone, a broken man put back together in the image of whatever organization is running the facility.  
  
Well, that isn’t going to happen. At least, he is going to do his damnedest to make sure it doesn’t.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Dried goji berries?” Jensen asks as he peers at the package he is eating from. It does no good. He can’t read the label worth shit as it is somewhere around two in the morning.  
  
“I know it goes against the whole roughing it thing, but dried fruit is dried fruit, you know?” Jared answers as he drags them along.  
  
Jensen isn’t sure if he can actually see the terrain better than Jensen can or if he is using his ‘critter sense’ to have nocturnal animals guide the way: the blind following the blind following the animal with a brain the size of a pea.  
  
It is their second night away from the facility, but nobody has come looking for them yet. Either both of them are better actors than they thought they were, or they’re walking into a big, fucking trap. Oddly enough, Jensen is betting on the actor thing.  
  
Jared carefully staged a King Kong freak out where he bounced around smashing all of the surveillance cameras and microphones. From what Jensen gathered, it wasn’t the first time that he had done it, so the handlers weren’t too concerned. In fact, they had seemed far more interested in sending Jensen into the proverbial lion’s den than they were about fixing their toys.  
  
If Jensen never heard about his powers and how they could be used to control another person again, it would be too soon.  
  
“How long you think it’ll take them to notice that we’re missing?” Jensen asks before he tilts the edge of the food pouch back up to his mouth for another bite. It is hard to eat while holding onto another man’s belt so that, but he’s managing okay. He’d much rather gain space between him and the facility.  
  
“Anywhere from tomorrow to three days from now,” Jared says in a matter of fact tone. “That’s when my water supplies would start to run low for two people.”  
  
“Water,” Jensen says miserably. That is the one part of their plan that is going to suck the most. There is only so much that a man can carry with him and still be mobile. Water is heavy but necessary. Their need to have it makes tracking them a little easier than Jensen would like it to bed.  
  
Jared, the bastard, laughs. “Don’t worry. I know my way around the wilderness. We aren’t going to die of dehydration.”  
  
“I think I like you better when you just grunt a lot,” Jensen grouses.  
  
“And pin you down and bite you?” Jared teases. “Because I can do that.”  
  
That would normally make Jensen dig his heals in and stop so that a serious conversation or argument could take place. But they’re sort of running for their freedom if not their lives. He doesn’t have the luxury.  
  
“Are you flirting with me?” Jensen asks.  
  
“Yes,” Jared says. “You’re not actually shocked by that, are you? Because I dragged you off to my cave and marked you as my own when I first met you. I’m pretty sure that is standard ‘Me Likey’ in caveman speak.”  
  
“No, I got that,” Jensen admits. He might pointedly ignore it, but he gets it. “Allow me to rephrase my question. You’re flirting with me, _now?_ ”  
  
“It’s dark. There are crickets chirping. I haven’t killed anybody lately. Kind of romantic if you think about it from my perspective,” Jared says. “And before you give me your comeback to that, I’m fully aware of how weird that is. I used to be popular and mentally balanced. I can remember what psycho is.”  
  
“And yet you’re hitting on me anyway,” Jensen points out.  
  
“Yeah, well, I really like you.”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
There was a time when Jensen wouldn’t have grabbed hold of some stranger’s hand and convinced him that he really wanted to give Jensen five hundred dollars. Then again, there was a time when he wouldn’t have been able to do that either. The center might think that their training was the best, but it had nothing on the inspiration of desperation.  
  
“Necessity is the mother of invention,” Jared intones as they buy their bus tickets with Jensen’s ill gotten gain.  
  
“I like you better when you communicate in grunts,” Jensen tells him, rubbing the palms of his hands against his jeans like he can wipe the taint of what he has done away.  
  
“Look, he had the money on him, right? So either he is a seriously rich guy that can afford it, or he is a fucking criminal who deserves it,” Jared reasons.  
  
“I hate that we’re justifying robbery,” Jensen tells him.  
  
Jared shrugs. “I hate that I can justify it. But hey, I justify mindless savagery on a daily basis, so a little cash doesn’t rank up there with my main concerns in life.”  
  
“That isn’t you,” Jensen tells him.  
  
“Try telling that to me when I’m pulling chunks of flesh out from underneath my fingernails.”  
  
“No, I mean it isn’t you,” Jensen says as sincerely as he can. “When those guards caught up with us…”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it, Jensen,” Jared cuts him off, looking around like he doesn’t already know that they’re as far away from eavesdroppers as possible.  
  
“Tough,” Jensen retorts, “I felt inside your head, man. There wasn’t anything there that could’ve stopped you because Jared had vacated.”  
  
“No,” Jared disagrees, “Jared didn’t vacate anything. He was just protecting what he sees as his. Upper brain function doesn’t make up the total man.”  
  
“Well then I still owe the quarter man my gratitude. It wasn’t you that they were going to kill. You know that they blame me for your corruption,” Jensen points out.  
  
“You don’t know that they were going to kill you,” Jared says. “But I do know that they blame you, and I know they’re right. If you weren’t with me, I’d be easy to catch. Hell, part of me would want to go back.”  
  
“So instead we’re here,” Jensen says. “Buying a ticket to nowhere in the hopes they won’t find us.”  
  
“No,” Jared corrects, “we’re buying a ticket to nowhere so that we can get lost afterwards. There is a difference. Purposely lost is different from lost-lost, you know?”  
  
“You’re very philosophical when you aren’t biting things and trying to lick yourself in inappropriate places,” Jensen teases.  
  
“Is there an appropriate place to lick yourself?” Jared asks. “Because my momma used to say that it was wrong to lick your fingers. I can only imagine what she’d think of other places.”  
  
“I’m told that lip licking can be very alluring, but I’m not sure that’s exactly ‘appropriate’,” Jensen says.  
  
“Whoever told you that was looking at the entirely wrong part of you,” Jared tells him. “Always watch a man’s eyes, not his mouth. The day I was taken, I didn’t take my own advice. Damn snake oil salesman had me before I knew what was what.”  
  
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I watched the eyes of my guy. Should’ve been watching his hands,” Jensen says as he stands up and grabs his backpack off the ground.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“I’m starting to hate the wilderness,” Jensen complains as he squashes yet another beetle crawling across the wooden floor of the cabin that they’ve liberated as their own.  
  
Jared grunts from where he is lazing about in a patch of sunshine on the deck. He’s starting to get attached to the place, which is a better reason to leave, but Jensen can’t make himself point that out. Jared has enough issues with his powers. No reason to remind him that getting really, really attached to his surroundings is a symptom of his gift.  
  
“Think you’re up for trying the city again?” Jensen asks even though he knows that Jared won’t answer him. Jared isn’t answering his mental phone at the moment, but he seems relaxed enough. Jensen doesn’t see the point of giving himself a headache by pulling Jared back from his little trip to Neanderthal land.  
  
“I’m thinking we should rebuild our supplies before winter. Going south will work too, but that will narrow the scope for them. If we have better supplies, our options will be broader,” Jensen reasons.  
  
Jared makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. It isn’t quite a, “Hmmm.” That would be asking too much. But it is enough to let Jensen know that Jared is listening even if he isn’t capable of participating.  
  
“I want you to know that I hate the cold, so volunteering for this isn’t my idea of fun,” Jensen tells him. It isn’t fun, but the freedom they’ve got is still better than being back at the training facility. The constant running and hiding is draining, but still exhilarating.  
  
Jensen wonders sometimes if he’ll get addicted to it. Maybe he’ll never have those moments where he can actually sit down and plan out a real future for himself. Maybe he’ll never discover that perfect way to hide from the keepers. He’s part of a two man army, so he knows that he can’t overthrow them. A man can’t fight against people that don’t technically exist, and Jensen isn’t stupid enough to think that he can expose the group to the media.  
  
And he isn’t the kind of man to lead a resistance either. Jensen’s got his hands full with just himself and Jared. He doesn’t have what it takes to lead some sort of revolution – especially not one that most of the world doesn’t know should be happening.  
  
He also isn’t stupid. Exposing the gifted to the world could be dangerous. Scared people make stupid decisions, and Jensen doesn’t want to gain his freedom only to have it taken away again by some internment order against his ‘kind.’  
  
The options he has are limited, but at least they are options.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
There are down sides to living a shared life with Jared. It is surprising to Jensen how little he actually thinks about them. Sure, dealing with a man that isn’t all there half the time can get a little annoying, but Jensen isn’t minding it so much. The longer they stay away from the facility, the less often that Jared gets violent. He thinks it might have something to do with the fact that Jared isn’t getting hauled off to perform special operations where he kills people.  
  
“You’re thinking pretty hard over there,” Jared observes from where he is curled up on the bed. They’re in a motel room for the night. It isn’t quite Jensen’s birthday, but they don’t dare do anything special around dates that are actually significant for them. Instead they celebrate around the dates.  
  
The crappy motel and its cable television are Jensen’s splurge for turning another year older. It isn’t nearly what he would have liked to have had, but he’s happy enough with it. The small indulgence lessens the urge to call home, talk to his family and any friends that he might have left. He isn’t stupid enough to think that television tells the truth when it comes to spies and wiretapping, but he figures that watching their families is a no brainer if their former keepers want to find them again.  
  
“Hey,” Jared says when Jensen doesn’t do more than shrug in response, “come over here.”  
  
“And do what?” Jensen asks even as he goes.  
  
“Get flirted with,” Jared answers with a sunny smile. “I’m sort of sane, and I brushed my teeth.”  
  
“You heartthrob, you,” Jensen teases as he slides onto the ugly yellow comforter that graces the bed.  
  
“Mmmmhmmm,” Jared agrees as he tugs Jensen against him.  
  
“Jared,” Jensen warns gently.  
  
“What?” Jared whispers back, seriousness filling his eyes. “You can’t avoid this forever, Jensen. I think we need to do something about it.”  
  
“It’s going to get awkward,” Jensen tells him.  
  
“It already is awkward,” Jared corrects. “It’s been awkward since the day we first met. I like you. Me and feral me.”  
  
“I know, but…”  
  
“And normally I’d be all for the whole, ‘let’s just be friends’ shtick, but it’s getting kind of distracting with you and your sexiness and the way you feel inside my brain,” Jared tells him.  
  
Jensen decides to focus on the easiest and most probably part of that sentence to go off on a tangent not involving him and Jared being him and Jared. “The way I feel inside your brain?”  
  
“Let’s just say mind fuck isn’t as unpleasant as people make it sound,” Jared informs him.  
  
Jensen blinks back at him.  
  
“I’m serious,” Jared tells him. “Feral me kind of gets off on you being all inside my skull trying to make me not gnaw on the latest mook’s arm or convincing my body that it really, really doesn’t want my bones to be broken anymore. It’s like… the ultimate display of devotion or something. Cozy, really.”  
  
“Invasive and creepy might be better word choices. Feral you doesn’t have that great of a vocabulary, remember?” Jensen says after he draws a shaky breath.  
  
“I know what I feel, Jensen. I also know that what I feel isn’t socially acceptable, and not because of the gay thing,” Jared tacks on with a rueful smile. “When I’m out of it, I forget that you aren’t mine. That bite on you? It’s my claim. The touch of your mind on mine? That’s your claim. It’s simple and uncomplicated until I’m back to forming complex sentences and realize how fucking creepy I am.”  
  
“Hey,” Jensen instantly soothes, placing a hand on Jared’s forearm, “it isn’t like that.”  
  
Jared snorts. “It really is. The only reason that I’m talking to you this way is because I had to make you happy. Feral me knows that you’re not content with me being mindless. Until you, I didn’t want to try very hard. I could communicate with my handlers, sure. I wasn’t a complete ape man or something. But you I wanted to be me for, the old me.”  
  
“This conversation would be confusing if anybody was listening to it,” Jensen jokes.  
  
Jared’s answering smile is small and tight. “I know that you don’t want to face this, but I think that I want an answer. I… If someday you’re going to want a change, want me to part ways with you, then we have to start in on it now.”  
  
That would probably be for the best. Jensen knows that. To be Jared’s support is dangerous. What if something happens to Jensen? Where will the other man be then? But choosing to be without Jared is also choosing to be alone. How can Jensen initiate a relationship of any kind with another person when he will only be putting him or her in danger?  
  
Then again, Jared deserves better than to be Jensen’s choice out of desperation. Any person deserves that. Jensen deserves to be more than just Jared’s pick because of what he can do for him. Then again, Jensen knows that Jared doesn’t just see him as a convenient choice. Jared’s gift might’ve screwed with his ability to form normal relationships, but he has met a lot of people besides Jensen since he started manifesting. He could’ve forms his weird attachment with any of them.  
  
“I can’t decide if our relationship is healthy or unhealthy,” Jensen admits.  
  
“A little bit of both, I think,” Jared says. “But I think all but the most romantic end up that way. We’re just there early.”  
  
Jensen laughs at that. “You’re not a bad philosopher.”  
  
“It makes up for turning into a Neanderthal every now and then,” Jared jokes.  
  
“You’re not a Neanderthal,” Jensen tells him.  
  
“No. I’m much worse than that,” Jared reminds him.  
  
“Not in my book you aren’t,” Jensen says.  
  
Jared shakes his head in disagreement. “That’s only because I didn’t kill you. I think you’d have a different opinion if you’d been like everybody else.”  
  
“But I’m not like everybody else,” Jensen says.  
  
“That sounds almost like an answer,” Jared says hesitantly.  
  
Jensen didn’t mean it that way. He knows he didn’t. But at the same time, he has to agree with Jared. That does sound like an answer. The only reasonable thing to say back is, “I think it is.”


End file.
